(unfit
category
but no
choice.)
Life would
be
worthless
and
short
If this is
the only
dear life
we
have
Great
plans just
death can
abort
to be
useless
once you
met
your grave.
And for
those who
die young,
in
chilhood's
tender
ages
How short
and
incomplete
life
would be
How
unfair and
unlucky if
death's
the end
for them
Besides
life to the
fullest is
eternity.
What
about
those who
born
and die
poor
or those
born deaf,
blind or
lame
What if
they were
so
doomed
without
any cure
How
unlucky if
resurrection
never
came!
But a
belief that
there's a
life
after this
could be
of great
consolation
and solace
especially
to the
poor
handicapped,
the
shortlived
that they
could
make it up
under
heaven's
grace!
For the
good one
who is
born
blind
In heaven
shall he in
brighter
vision see
And the
goodly
one yet
who
has lost
his mind
will in the
afterlife
be as sane
as could be
The deaf
man with
his balance
of pious
acts
Only the
hereafter
would
compensate
what he
lacks
And that
godly one
born poor
and who
dies poor
could be
of the
richest at
heaven's
door
In this life
those
who've
been
saintly yet
unable to
talk
could
cheer up
to believe
what
heaven
has in
stock
For this
world can
be misery,
heaven's
the place
to rock
In this
world at
times
you've
to let the
hawks
gawk
Knowing
your
tormentor
in
heaven
shall ye
mock
Thus for a
true
happy
ever
after
for an
abode of
mirth and
laughter
Work
towards
thy
hereafter
A divine
place
devoid of
disaster!

Garage
stacked high
scribbled stenos of
an automatic act
of little understanding or thought-------------
{tuhituhi}
visceral finality
zero return
zero reward
and then there's
a learning disability hindering the reading-------------
{panui}
writing
is taking a dump,
except after wiping, I tend to take a peek
this creative act ill affords a 2nd glance
a good day and bet the writing stinks... boring
jail or hospital equals readers galore
"TELL ME MORE!"
could correlate with occupancy rates
what a sorry excuse of a poet I am
damn if that ain't sayin' much.-----------
{paru}
~editor's note: Poetry Soup would not let the beautiful Urdu script be seen, so I substituted Maori~ :(

After so many countries, now in Syria,
Increasing is the western bacteria,
The bacteria of hypocrisy and lies,
Which is in a dangerous disguise,
Under the banner of help and peace,
They seems like a white fleece,
They do things very secretly,
Pursuing interests very actively,
What they want is just conflicts?
In the entire world's districts,
They like when people kill each other,
Its how indirectly they do smother,
Try to understand that what is a war?
Because it opens up the profits door,
For the imperialists and dictators,
And of course their very own creators,
When imperialists start a war,
They make sure that its paid for,
So they pose to help by selling arms,
As if they are selling them charms,
In return of arms they make money,
So much that its not even funny,
On the other hand people also die,
In the region where they don't comply,
They want the entire world to obey,
Their orders and want them to say okay!
As long as one stays this way,
A nice attitude they will display,
But for instance if one says "NO" to them,
At first they get angry and hem,
And then come bans and sanctions,
Penalties all kinds of aggressions,
And still if they are not successful,
They wage a war to make stressful,
So that's what they did in Syria,
It was their anger and hysteria,
Because they couldn't do anything,
And through a war they wanted to sting,
But they forgot that who they are facing,
And what kind of a enemy they are racing?
They already are, their army, replacing,
And because of defeats they are reducing,
The Takfiri terrorists they brought in,
Are ruthless and not even human,
They are ripping chests of people,
And eating their hearts like animal,
So west and its cruel tactics,
Has nothing to do with the ethics,
So once and for all everyone,
Let's finish savagery which has begun.
All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi

Hi dear poetry soupians
I'm one of those peach
hued Indians
I'll present to you my
own Indian poetic curries
and broth
for PoetrySoup, yet I post
slow as a sloth
I hope you enjoy reading
me
and poetrypals we all shall
be
Being born abroad, my
poems have a
multicultural flavor
Pls do comment on my
poems, I always return
the favor.
Hi see yah around

As black as my birdlover poet's
pen ink hue in hue
A rook and a raven flew flew
flew
when the wind it breezily blew
blew blew
and blustery became the view
view view
An albatross then gracefully
took to the air
and for hours it seemed to
linger there
O' birds of flight your secrets
tell
and if you know which of us
had end up in heaven or hell?
For isn't all is well that ends
well?
Lets pray there ain't hell's murk
but Eden's light
at the end of the tunnel!

Life is a bag of jilly beans
Never in a separate bowl
Fruity, exquisite, spooned by Ian.
PiCk
and
MiX
Crouching, the tiger
amalgamated the prism of daL.
Floating, the petal
never arrived.
Dreaming, the tangerine peeled to reveal
a bun.
The fiddler: Dum digga dum.
Diggy diggy diggy dum.
And when the bag 'a' beans is empty,
PLLP.

My little eyes are watching,
My ears are listening too.
They take in everything
That you say and do.
My little hands are eager
To do the things you do.
I'm hoping and I'm dreaming
I'll grow up just like you.
I am just a little guy
Who knows that you are wise
You'll teach me what I need
For someone just my size.
I'm a bright eyed little fellow
Who is watching what you do
And I'm waiting for the day
I'll be grown up just like you.

A killer garden of love
expects pollution of sin
was walking in town
embraced my chest home
serving the environment
Butterfly flies
affect the branches done
disappeared and gone
health in a car exhaustion
guard our natural wealth
let's save the wildlife
do not be smug!